


Michael in the bathroom, revised.

by 1988Andy



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Broken Bones, Burns, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of Death, Michael is clueless, Panic Attacks, Rich set a fire, Suicide Attempt, he wants to be dead, he's not suicidal he just thinks it would be cool to be dead, jeremy is gay for michael, jumping out a window, michael in the bathroom mentions, michael wants to die, the house fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:17:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1988Andy/pseuds/1988Andy
Summary: What if Jeremy hadn't left the party before the fire?





	Michael in the bathroom, revised.

            Michael Mell had never been good at the whole, hyper-focus control thing. He was either completely spaced out or incredibly focused on one thing for short amounts of time. He could attribute some of his passions to this habit, Bob Marley for instance. His passion for drawing cartoons was partially credited to it, though he’d like to think that was of his own volition. Hyper-focus was a massive problem for him, especially in situations like this. Having a fit in the bathroom at a party because his friend got mad at him.

 

            All he could think of was Jeremy. Everything in his body was suddenly pinned on Jeremy and it was soul crushing. He hated it. His hope, his ability to breathe, all of it was on Jeremy. He’d been friends with that stupid bean pole since preschool, fucking _preschool._ His heart shattered again at the thought that all those years lead up to being best-friend dropped at a party just so Jeremy could be “cool”.  Jesus Christ, when did his arms get this heavy?

 

            Michael lifted a numb arm to his face, wiping away tears slowly. He hadn’t realized he was crying, but apparently he was. Was that blood? Ok, yeah, that was blood. Michael remembered his odd tendency for nose bleeds when he was stressed. His body was tense and rigid, he could hardly bring himself to move. He reminded himself that hardly being able to do something is what lead him here in the first place, and swiftly got off his ass.

 

            With two hands on each side of the sink, he put his head down. Blood and tears mixed and hit the white percaline slowly. He focused on every drop as his chest began to tighten. His breathing was labored and shaky, hand unknowingly clutching over his heart. Michael had hoped that this whole over reaction didn’t turn into a full blown panic attack, but he figured he was in no position to be making demands.

 

            _Worthless._

            No, he wasn’t worthless. He was human. He could fix this; he could get over it. It’s not like Jeremy was his only friend. Problem, Jeremy _was_ his only friend. It destroyed him, that one thought hit so god damn hard. He let out a scream by accident, tasting some of the blood from his nose running into his mouth. The taste of copper and salty tears was bitter and unpleasant, but Michael couldn’t really give a shit at that point. He really was _worthless._

_Useless._

            Yep, that too. Michael couldn’t even be fucking happy for his best friend. His best friend, his best fucking friend had finally stopped being a loser, he had escaped. Michael should’ve been happy; he should’ve been excited his friend had a better life now. God, his stomach lurched and churned, head reeling. He wiped the blood and tears away, knowing they’d just return. His shaky legs gave out below him as he crawled his way to the toilet, holding the bowl weakly.

 

            _Knock, Knock, Knock, Knock._

            Jesus, could people not fucking take a hint? Didn’t matter, he couldn’t respond anyway. His nails dug into his arms, skin raw and red. He hadn’t realized he was doing it, but he was glad. _Pain._ He could feel that. He could feel that; he could feel it. Feelings were what got him into this, they could help him suffer as he deserved. His stomach lurched once again, he shot forward. Nice, dumb ass, go ahead and slam your head into the seat. He held that spot on his forehead, slowly pushing the lid back up and leaning forward, emptying a portion of his stomach contents into the toilet. God he hated that taste. He sobbed into his literal vomit. If this wasn’t pathetic, he didn’t know what was.

 

            _Knock, Knock, Knock, Knock._

            He, at this point, would’ve screamed something back. But this time, the person on the other end finally screamed information that was important. _Fire._ Did he hear that right? Who the hell would start a fire? Michael took note of how hot the door was when he tried to open it, drawing his hand back quickly from the hot door knob. He also took a note of how shit the doors were in Jake’s house, clouds of smoke filing in through the top of the door. Jesus, as if the binder restricting his hyperventilation wasn’t enough. It felt like there was a hard and pounding burning in his chest and it hurt like hell.

 

            Michael looked at his phone. Three missed calls, all from Jeremy. Apparently he was also capable of optic nerve blocking, he hadn’t even felt it vibrate in his hoodie pocket. Texts were still flying in, one after the other in rapid succession. Michael’s eyes were too blurry; he couldn’t see shit. Tears fell from his eyes at this point without his knowledge. He wiped his eyes, burying his face into his sweater, breathing through the thick fabric. His shaky hands raised the phone close to his face as a third call from Jeremy came in.

 

            “ _Michael!”_ He screamed into the phone, letting out that familiar voice crack. “Did you get out of the fire?! Why aren’t you in the group across the street?!” He was on the verge of crying; Michael could hear it in his voice. Michael let out a weak, tired chuckle. He was tired, exhausted from his relentless panic. He was speaking before he could even catch the words out of his mouth. “It’s ok, seriously.” He muttered. Jeremy let out a confused noise, Michael swiftly cutting off his speech. _“I want to die.”_

 

            Michael wasn’t sure of Jeremy’s reaction. All he heard was a sharp gasp, then sobs. Jeremy spoke in a steady, way-to-calm voice. “I’m coming in to get you.” Stern voiced Jeremy was probably the scariest form. That notion made Michael’s heart sink to his weak stomach. The stress of the moment caused another nose bleed, but he didn’t really care. He lurched forward, vomiting onto Jake’s floor. He figured at this point it didn’t really matter where he threw up, the house was on fire for god’s sake. Jeremy’s noise of anxiety that came from the gagging only caused Michael to lose more of his stomach contents.

 

            Michael had no clue how he did it, but Jeremy was pounding on the door within ten minutes. On the verge of passing out, Michael hadn’t noticed he’d spilled nail polish remover onto the area near the door. He crawled to the door slowly, using his sweater sleeve to open the door slowly. Bad choice. The floor caught on fire as soon as the heat from the door frame reached the nail polish remover. Michael didn’t realize till his hand arm and hand was on fire. The literal only thing he could think of was his dad was going to kick his ass for burning this sweater. Jeremy had somehow got a cup from the shower, he guessed it was used by Jake and his sister to rinse of their hair in the shower.

 

            Michael screamed as the water was splashed onto the burning flesh. The smell was putrid, and caused him to once again vomit. He was embarrassed out of his mind that he did so at Jeremy’s feet. Jeremy didn’t seem to care. He grabbed Michael, lifting him bridal style- when the hell did Jeremy get that strong? Michael was not light, he was a heavy set dude, this had to was aware of, Jeremy’s term for jacking off. Though that kind of wasn’t what he was worried about.

 

            “What the hell?! Jeremy, I said _I want to die!”_ He spat out the words harshly. Jeremy gave a frustrated noise. “Stop saying that!” He screamed it at Michael, who promptly shut his mouth. The tightness in his chest was back. “I don’t fucking _want_ you to die, asshole! I wanted to grow up past this shitty school, I wanted to do it with _you!”_ Jeremy was crying as he screamed at Michael, scanning the bathroom desperately for a way out. “Don’t you understand it?! I love you Michael, I love you dammit! Christine is a cover up to stop the gay jokes!” Finally, Jeremy took off his stupid cyborg costume hat, wrapping it around one hand. Ok, Michael really had to ask Jeremy about his arm strength. He was now thrown over the shoulder of his friend as Jeremy literally punched the glass out of the window.

 

            The screen fell only about ten feet. Michael had fallen more than that back when he was really into parkour in 7th grade. Of course he broke his arm, but that was better than dying a fire after your best friend confessed his love for you. Ok, fuckin’ nice, they were now climbing out of the window. Well, climbing was a strong word. Michael was tossed out, falling in the rose bushes flat on his back. He couldn’t fucking breathe for shit, and about five seconds later he couldn’t keep his eyes open as Jeremy jumped out, the beanpole landing right on his chest.

 

            Michael could definitely hear frantic apologies and his ribs cracking before he lost consciousness. He was pulled to Jeremy’s chest and held close, kids screaming around them. He could make out a few words, but his body going into shock prevented most thoughts. _“What the fuck are you all just standing there for?! Call a fucking ambulance!”_ Jeremy’s voice was booming and bossy, but then again Michael’s would be too if Jeremy was in his place. Sirens came moments after, Jeremy wasn’t letting anyone close to Michael. He was sobbing over his friend’s body, screaming and hyperventilating. Christine at one point must’ve tried to comfort him but, it didn’t work because it sounded like she got pushed over and screamed at.

 

            The doctor’s hands were cold and frigid. They weren’t Jeremy, they weren’t kind. They were just hands, hands that Michael didn’t want touching him. His tired eyes were open and bloodshot in seconds, screaming as gloved hands went to remove his glasses. Jeremy was close by, giving a low and threating noise to the paramedic. “Tell him when you’re going to touch him, dammit!” He yelled, the stress in his voice heart breaking. The paramedics simply nodded and did just that for the rest of the ambulance ride. Michael’s sweater sleeve had been burned off, but the rest was still on. He literally smacked a male paramedic as he approached him with the sheers to cut off the rest of the sweater. _Jeremy didn’t know he was trans._ Jesus Christ he was _dying_ and this is what he was worried about? Didn’t matter. Jeremy grabbed his hand and held it tightly, bringing it to his mouth. He kissed his hand lightly.

 

            “It’s alright, I know you’re not in shape.” He mutters softly. Michael desperately shakes his head, insisting that that wasn’t the problem. Michael wasn’t putting up a fight anymore, so the sweater was cut off to revel the bandages over his chest. Double layered ace-bandages covered the breasts that he desperately hated. He’d expected Jeremy to be mad, or disgusted… but no, Jeremy had no reaction. He just kind of looked at Michael, eyes full of pure love and adoration. Michael felt tears form again. He was sobbing till he felt Jeremy’s hand on his cheek lightly. “I swear, Michael, whatever you were worried about, I couldn’t give less of a shit. I love you for who you are… Though it’s a little bit of a surprise.” He muttered softly, bringing his face close.

 

            Michael’s nose bled significantly and he threw up before Jeremy could kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> this was going to be smut but it turned into a character study oops


End file.
